


If at First You Don't Succeed...

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 19:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10703163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Time loops are bad enough. Try spending one with Batman.





	If at First You Don't Succeed...

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Groundhog Day."
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal Feb. 12th, 2012.

Superman had long ago lost count of how many times he had experienced this day.

Well, maybe it was about 80, but he tried to turn off his automatic math brain so he wouldn’t have to think about it.

83.

Granted, Batman would have remembered it for him anyway, the neurotic perfectionist that he was.

Eighty-three times Superman had woken up in the Batcave, lying on one bed in the small medical bay with Batman parallel to him on the other bed.

Waking at the same time, they would turn to each other, more dejected each “new” day than the last. Then Alfred would come in, admonish them for getting so hurt they had to drag each other back to the Cave, and then feed them and make sure they had fluids and generally tut-tut over them until Bruce got his way and Alfred left.

No matter how many times Bruce or Clark had changed his own words, Alfred always seemed to manage to say the same things. 

And eventually he’d make his way back downstairs and determine they were free to go; what had injured them so badly the night before (some kind of gas released in Batman’s face, which had a small amount of crystallized green Kryptonite that incapacitated Superman) was out of their systems by then.

Of course Batman was immediately in his lab, analyzing his blood and other fluids to determine the composition of the gas. And for all he’d been able to learn by doing it 83 times, he still hadn’t learned much.

“It’s as if it doesn’t actually exist.”

“You think it’s extraterrestrial?”

“It’s got to be something.”

Sure there were different versions of that conversation, but ultimately every iteration of the day came down to the same thing: neither Batman nor Superman knew why they were repeating the same day, and no one but them seemed to realize that the day was being repeated.

Eventually Superman returned home and went to sleep in his own bed, only to wake up once more with heart sensors stuck to his chest and the chorus of steady beeps in his ears.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

~*~

“I’m going to lose my mind, Bruce. Not only is the day repeating, it’s a _boring_ day.”

“Boring?”

Superman hovered restlessly a few feet above the floor, enjoying the feel of air on his skin and under his bare feet. Maybe he should find reasons to fly in only his boxers more often. “We sit in bed until Alfred declares us fit, then you go in your lab, I eventually leave to patrol Metropolis, and then we go to bed and wake up back here. Every. Single. Day.” Watching Batman try again and again and again and again…

Batman’s persistence was admirable, his determination inspiring.

But still. Every day. The same thing.

“Even when I don’t go to bed I somehow wake up here.”

“Me too. Maybe if we’re together it’ll stop this? We can—gasp—leave the Cave and go into town, and I can stay here tonight.”

Batman appeared to ponder this. “We really do need to stop doing what we’re doing and find something new. This Sisyphean effort of repeating the day will drive us both mad eventually.”

“The solution can’t be determining the poison; you can’t figure it out if there’s nothing else to check.”

“A day isn’t enough to run all the tests I need, anyway.” Batman looked around helplessly, as if he weren’t sure how to pass the time when there was no guarantee his work wouldn’t be undone in a few hours. He already looked out of place with his cowl pushed back. “You’re not even bothering to get dressed anymore?”

“It’s just us, and we’re in the Cave. If you want to go out I’ll get real clothes on.”

Making a face—one Superman couldn’t quite decipher—Batman finally agreed to leave the Cave. “I suppose a trip into Gotham together wouldn’t hurt. It would be something different, anyway.”

“Maybe it’ll break whatever is causing this loop.”

“I doubt it. But you’re right. Even I’m getting tired of this costume and my Cave.”

~*~

They enjoyed a nice dinner out at a restaurant Clark had been to before, so he was at least familiar with the food. He never enjoyed Bruce’s “I’m the owner of the Daily Planet so I’m treating my employees to a fine expensive meal” fancy restaurants. The following stroll along the harbor was nice, too. The Cave never seemed so bad until the open outdoors was experienced soon afterwards.

As he drifted off to sleep that night, Clark couldn’t help but hope the loop was now broken.

~*~

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Superman heard himself groan at about the same time he heard Batman groan too. Day 88 was beginning in the same way, with the same disorientation caused by waking up in a medical center. “We need to get out of here.”

“Noted.”

Alfred fussed, food was eaten, blood was drawn and sampled.

But only for a short time before Batman threw his hands in the air. “That’s it. Let’s go do something else. I can’t look at my own blood anymore.”

Another dinner out, and this time a walk through the business district, ostensibly so Bruce could make sure everything outside the Cave really was the same.

Clark enjoyed looking at the architecture.

~*~

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

“Is this ever going to end?”

“What else can we try?”

Many more cycles of the Day That Would Not End repeated after that, and each day Superman and Batman—or Clark and Bruce, depending on what they were doing—tried to do new things to break the loop.

Maybe they needed to learn each other’s fight styles, which lead to great sparring and a lot of griping from Batman, but didn’t break the loop.

Maybe they needed to live each other’s lives for the rest of the day, so Clark stayed in Gotham while Bruce traveled to Metropolis and Clark’s tiny apartment. More griping from Bruce, and it didn’t break the loop.

New skills? Much to Alfred’s horror they tried cooking. Then baking. Probability and statistics (much to Bruce’s chagrin Clark’s alien brain was much better at it). Computer science. Welding. Music. New weapon forms. Embroidery (also to Alfred’s horror).

After a while they switched to Metropolis, so see what else sparked their imaginations.

Nothing worked.

No matter what they were doing, where they were, how they felt, when they started, they kept waking up at the same time in the same place to the same beeping before Alfred came to check on them.

~*~

One day—Clark wasn’t sure which one though he knew he could ask Bruce if he really wanted to know—they were on a picnic at a park somewhere between Gotham and Metropolis. A veritable picnic. They’d fried their own chicken and made homemade potato salad, even. His mom would be proud.

“It’s a nice day, Clark.”

“It really is. We’re fortunate the loop happened when it was warm and sunny. Imagine having to relive the same blizzard or hurricane over and over.”

“I think, well, I know…” Bruce paused and got a peculiar look on his face. Was he… _bashful_? “If I had to, I’m glad it would be with you. I know I don’t always say it, but you’re a good friend. And as much as this loop has been maddening, I think it’s given us both some time to relax and take a step back.”

Suddenly a voice said, “Finally! I thought you’d never get it!” In a puff of smoke, Bat-Mite appeared before them, hovering in his ill-fitting costume.

Bruce went from content and relaxed to pissed-off-Batman-growly instantly. “This was _your_ doing!”

“Well of course, who else would not only be able to insist you take a break and relax, but also ensure you do it?”

Barely containing his anger, Bruce gritted out, “ _What?_?”

“Before I helped you repeat the day, you were very rude to Superman here, because you were horribly stressed and hadn’t had anything go right recently. Joker and Penguin and the gangs, all over and over and over. You needed a break!”

Bruce appeared unable to form words; his mouth moved but no sounds came out.

Bat-Mite continued, “So I wanted you to slow down and appreciate what you have here, your friendship and how not everything is life and death, doom and gloom.”

“And repeating the same day—which starts with both of us injured—was the way to do that?”

“Stopping time is much harder than just looping time. And when do you ever listen to anyone? How many turns did it take you to listen to Superman? He suggested _not_ working on the Red Herring poison many times.”

“I told you, Bruce.”

Now the glare was directed at Clark. “I see that now, _Clark_. Thank you.”

Now Bat-Mite looked dejected. “Don’t be mad at Superman, Batman. But don’t be mad at me, either. I always wind up making you mad. But I just want what’s best for you. You finally got to relax and appreciate what you have.”

Through still-gritted teeth, Bruce said, “Thank you.”

Bat-Mite beamed. “You’re welcome! Enjoy the rest of your day. You’ll advance tomorrow. So whatever else you do today counts!” With another puff, he was gone.

“Well,” Bruce drawled, “I suppose that explains a lot. We should have figured it was that weirdo’s doing. That or your guy’s.”

“Mr. Mxyzptlk is usually more ill-willed. Bat-Mite did just want what’s best for you.”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t just lock me in a room somewhere.”

 

“He wants you happy, not as a pet.”

“Don’t even start down that path.”

The mood of the nice day seemed broken, which disappointed Clark. Any moment Bruce would want to pack up their stuff and head back to the Cave to do more work, now that it would count. But five minutes stretched into ten, stretched into twenty, and Bruce didn’t appear to be ready to leave.

“Stop staring at me, Clark. I will try to listen to that nut job for at least one day. We can return to the real world tomorrow, now that there is a tomorrow.”

“Maybe he really did make an impression.”

“No… I’d just really not like to see what else he can do that’ll be even worse than this. …Not that spending hundreds of days with you is a bad thing. It was just strange like this.”

“Hundreds?”

“Two-hundred and four. We took some time to learn some new skills.”

“So it wasn’t all bad.”

“You have to admit this was a damn fine lunch. If Alfred didn’t glare so much I’d try to offer to do some of my own cooking.”

“He’ll never let you.”

“It’s probably better that way anyway.”

And so the last day of the loop was spent companionably, and that suited Clark just fine. Why _he_ got roped into Bruce’s lesson, he wasn’t sure, other than maybe Bruce really did need to appreciate his friends more.

Not that he’d ever admit it.


End file.
